


Friends With The Monster In My Mind

by MoMoMomma



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark Fantasy, Fingerfucking, Hallucinations, Hand Jobs, I'm Sorry, Masturbation, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Nogitsune's attempts at convincing Stiles to submit have changed tactics. It's no longer fear and intimidation, but rather offers of what he could have if he would just give in. Stiles isn't so sure this is any better. In fact, he's pretty sure this is worse. He'll take the bear trap again, he'll take anything, just...not this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends With The Monster In My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know...I have no idea where this came from. I am so sorry. It's confusing and dark and completely triggering so please take care. Also, it is tagged as Stiles & numerous characters because while Stiles does have an attraction to them,it doesn't equal his attraction to Peter (hence the tagging of their actual relationship). And the underage tag is due to it taking place in current show canon, in which Stiles is still underage.
> 
> I...I normally say enjoy here but I don't feel like that's appropriate so...thank you for reading?

“Why are you doing this?”

“A willing host is always more powerful than one that fights.” Stiles’ shadow smirked back at him from the mirror, reflected in the shimmering surface.

Stiles let his head fall forwards, clenching his teeth when he felt the cool brush of fingertips—the callous on his pointer finger from lacrosse dragging slightly—against the nape of his neck. He didn’t know how much longer he could fight this for. Every single night the monster that wore his face was back, smirking at him, eyes flashing between an insidious black and a glowing silver. Lately, the tactics had been different. Stiles had actually been waking up feeling normal, feeling better than he had when he’d gone to sleep.

The monster no longer tortured him with bear traps and the promise of murdering everyone Stiles cared about. There were no more illusions. Instead, he treated him almost like a friend, like Stiles was someone he desperately wanted to impress. Stiles had sworn to himself he would fight tooth and nail, try as hard as he could to throw whatever demon this was out of him, but it was hard.

Especially tonight.

“So is there a reason I’m naked?” Stiles spat, head kicking up to glare at his twin in the mirror, the monsters eyes crinkling alongside his lips as he grinned.

“Like I said, willing hosts are much more pleasant.”

“I’m not going to submit to you.” Stiles swore, hands clenching against the top of his dresser, the temperature in the room dipping as the monster scowled.

Void, as he’d come to refer to the animal after a short lesson from Allison and her dad, rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Like this, he—and Stiles wasn’t even sure if it _was_ a he, but he was running around with Stiles’ genitals so ‘he’ it was—looked more like the pouting teenager he appeared, instead of the horrifying creature that had driven Stiles mad. He blew out a breath, the temperature of his breath warm against Stiles’ skin, a contrast to the cool of the room.

“Stiles,” Void purred, leaning close and pressing himself against Stiles’ back, the cool of his clothes making Stiles jerk away before iron tight hands gripped his biceps. “I don’t think you quite understand what you’re dealing with here. Submitting, doing as I wish? I could grant you anything you desire.”

“I _desire_ you to get the hell out of me.” Stiles said, bucking backwards to try and shove the creature away, wincing when Void refused to move back, their bodies colliding.

“But you’re so _fun_.” Void snarled, sliding a hand up Stiles’ back and gripping onto his hair, tipping his head back just far enough that Stiles swallowed reflexively.

“Think about it, Stiles.” He whispered, lips just barely brushing the curve of Stiles’ ear, shudders of disgust running down his spine. “When I say anything, I mean anything. You could see your mother every night. Have more power than those canines that you run with, have anyone you ever wanted.”

“I don’t want any of that.” Stiles shook his head, yelping when Void slid a hand off his arm and down his front, stomach clenching under the feel of familiar callouses.

His stomach started to churn as his body reacted to the familiar feeling, Pavlovian training kicking in as blood started to move downwards. Stiles bit back a gasp when Void curled his fingers—no, not _his_ , Stiles. They were Stiles. They belonged to him.—around his cock, bucking against the hold.

“S-Stop!” He choked out, Void scowling at his rejection and tightening the hand in his hair to a painful grip. “I don’t…I don’t want this!”

“You don’t want _me_.” Void snapped, pumping his cock a few times, Stiles swallowing back bile at the way it thickened further under the pressure.

The air shifted suddenly, between one blink and the next, and Stiles closed his eyes. Naked was not a fun thing to be while terrified, and naked, and with a demon who had already hi-jacked his body? And had his fucking hand around Stiles’ cock? There was little else about this scenario that could terrify Stiles.

But whatever Void was doing, Stiles couldn’t stop it. He’d tried once, to fight off the illusion, to convince himself it wasn’t real. He’d thought maybe he’d wake up. Instead, Void had taken offense and displayed all his friends in front of him, all dying of horrific wounds, begging Stiles to save them.

He had stopped trying to ignore Void after that.

“But you do want me.”

Stiles’ eyes shot open in response to the voice, mouth falling wide as he stared in the mirror. Playful green eyes met his, the hands in his hair and around his cock more delicate now, tipped with immaculate French tips.

“L-Lydia?” Stiles gasped out, twisting to try and see her, groaning when the fingers in his hair gripped and yanked his face back to the mirror.

“Not really.” She purred, flashing the silver of her—not her, not him. It. Void.—teeth as she stroked his cock slowly, leaning to press a kiss to his shoulder. “But I could be. I could be anyone you want, Stiles.”

“Go away!” Stiles screamed into the reflection, Void’s lips turning down in a pout that was so achingly familiar Stiles couldn’t help the pulse of blood in his cock or the shudder that ran down his spine.

“Not me, then?” Lydia sighed, and the air shifted once more, Stiles slamming his eyes shut.

He didn’t want to know. He couldn’t know. This…this was almost worse than the physical torture. This was soul-deep gouging and there wasn’t enough Dial in the world to make him feel clean again.

“Open your eyes, Stiles.”

The command was unfamiliar, but the voice was so achingly tied to Stiles’ survival reflex he obeyed, eyelids peeling open as he stared at the reflection once more.

“Good boy.” Derek’s lips curled up into a smirk—something so dark, so very un-like the sourwolf, playing at the edges—pumping his cock another few times, like some sick reward. “You forget, Stiles, I’m _inside_ you. I know exactly what you want.”

Void leaned in and brushed borrowed stubble against his skin, the rub making Stiles shudder, hips bucking against his will into the tight fist that held him. Void glanced into the mirror, no longer meeting Stiles’ eyes, but admiring his own naked form.

God, all those wet dreams about what Derek would look like naked were coming true. In the worst possible way.

“He is nice, isn’t he?” Void purred, scratching lightly against Stiles’ scalp, grip no longer tight.

Not like he needed it. At this point, with everything happening, with all the conflicting emotions and feelings inside him, Stiles couldn’t look away from the reflections if a goddamn atomic bomb went off next to him.

“And you _like_ this form. Just think of all we could do. All you could do to him.” Void switched hands, so quickly Stiles could barely notice it, his left hand leaving his hair to replace his right on Stiles’ cock.

The other hand trailed around his body, brushing against his ass and then lower until the pad of one finger touched his hole. Void smirked and Stiles choked on his next inhale when that same hole suddenly felt slick, open, the same way it felt when Stiles fingered himself during late nights when he couldn’t, or didn’t want to, sleep.

“You could have him. Just like this. I could give him to you, as a gift.” Void breathed, pushing one finger against his rim, grinning wickedly when it gave just a bit and Stiles cried out at the pressure. “If you were to stop fighting, that is.”

“I don’t want him.” Stiles screeched, the sound ripping at his vocal cords, the words forcing themselves out.

He wanted Derek. He lusted after him—what person with eyes wouldn’t?—but not how Void was offering. Not like that. Derek had had enough people take advantage. Stiles would die before he became another one.

Void sighed again, like this whole thing was tedious, finger still toying with Stiles’ hole, other hand absently pumping his length.

“Not him, then? Picky, picky boy. But I have many options.” Derek’s lips curled in a facsimile of a grin, the edges of his body wavering slightly.

Stiles couldn’t look away, torn between leaning aside to vomit up what little he’d choked down before he’d fallen asleep and bucking into the tight hand still encircling his cock. Fuck his body, fuck his weak mass of muscles and flesh that made him such an easy target. This was _rape_ , and he was getting off? Leaning into the touches, bucking back against Void’s borrowed hands?

How fucked up was he?

“How about me?” Tears edged Stiles’ vision at the new voice, clouding the grin Scott shot him.

“N-No. Not him.” Stiles whispered, unable to speak clearly, the coil in stomach tightening at the familiar sight of his best friend’s face.

“Not me?” Void teased, pressing harder, Stiles gasping as the finger that had been teasing his rim slid inside, a familiar and unfamiliar presence.

Scott’s fingers were so _thick_ , so different from his own thin ones, and the contrast had Stiles bucking even as his stomach rolled and he swallowed back a mouthful of sour spit.

“But how _fun_ would it be, Stiles?” Void whispered, eyes flashing Scott’s familiar Alpha-red as he leaned in and dragged his lips against Stiles’ shoulder. “Who knows you better than your best friend? Who would be a better lover? And he’s an _Alpha._ ”

Void scoffed at that, breath washing hot over Stiles’ chilled skin, eyes rolling in the reflection as Stiles flexed his hands, the muscles sore from being clenched into tight fists on the wood.

“Such a silly position, but important to wolves. Having him under you, under your control? You would never want for anything in their world.”

“Stop this.” Stiles spat, glaring at his best friend’s face, watching it go slack for a moment before Void arched a brow at him. “He’s good, too damn good. Leave him out of this.”

“Too good?” Void echoed, pumping the finger inside him in and out, scrambling Stiles’ brain for a moment, so much so that the next words sounded like they’d been spoken underwater. “Then let’s go _bad_ , shall we?”

“No!” Stiles’ eyes slammed shut, his whole body bucking against what he knew—he just fucking _knew_ —what was coming next.

A fantasy he jacked off to in the late hours of the night, when the world went to sleep, where he couldn’t be judged. One that had him spilling faster than he ever had with anyone else, even Lydia. One he’d never admit to under the pain of torture.

One that Void, apparently, knew well.

Void didn’t speak, sinking another finger deep inside him—a thicker finger than even Scott’s—the digits moving and stretching inside him, brushing up against his prostate in ways that had Stiles whining and shoving forward into the tight clench of a hand so much softer than Scott’s own. When he pressed another kiss to Stiles’ skin, to the sensitive spot just below his ear, Stiles shuddered at the brush of stubble.

Not this. Anything but this.

“Open your eyes, Stiles.” Void whispered sweetly, Stiles feeling lips curl into a smile against his skin even as he shook his head.

Everything was falling, lightening sparking behind his lids at the pleasure racing up his spine. He was going to lose it, was going to fall. He couldn’t control his body’s reactions any more than he could control his mind anymore and he was going to come. Come from the borrowed fingers Void had sunk deep inside him, spilling over the same stolen digits stroking his cock just how Stiles liked.

“Open them.” Void snapped again, nipping at his skin this time, teeth sharper than they should have been, and Stiles gasped for breath, tears streaking down his cheeks as he shook his head.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t admit to this, couldn’t stop himself from coming under the control of a monster.

“Give in, Stiles.” Void’s voice had changed, the borrowed purr like honey sliding over Stiles’ frayed nerves. “Give in and I’ll give you this, anytime you want.”

“I don’t want it.” Stiles sobbed out, the flashes behind his eyes more and more as he slipped towards the edge, as Void’s stolen hands pushed him further and further towards orgasm.

“Do you know what I heard just then?” Void taunted, hands moving faster, Stiles going hot then cold at the familiar words. “Your heart beating slightly faster over the words ‘I don’t want’. Stop lying to yourself Stiles and open. Your. Eyes.”

The last snarled words, coupled with the sudden release of tension in his body, had Stiles obeying, eyes snapping open. Peter’s gaze met his in the mirror, as he shook and shuddered, spilling hot over the fingers gripping his cock, clenching around the two still buried inside him. There was something triumphant in the grin that curled the werewolf’s lips as Stiles sagged back against the solid form, weak from his orgasm even as everything in him screamed at him to run.

“I can keep this up, Stiles,” Void whispered, Peter’s gaze soft as he ran it over Stiles’ form. “For as long as I want. Every night, every day. Or you can give in. And I can give you everything you want.”

Stiles didn’t speak, couldn’t speak, and Void chuckled—the sound more malicious than anything that had ever come from Peter, even when he was a half-mad Alpha on a rampage.

“Good boy. Now wake up. I’m a benevolent creature, I’ll give you a gift before I take what I need.”

Stiles closed his eyes and became aware of himself on a gasp. Everything rushed back, the heat in the air, the sounds of crickets chirping outside, the light of the moon pouring in through his window. Shakily, he withdrew the fingers he’d had buried inside his hole, scrambling for a few tissues on the dresser to wipe the come from his hands. Stiles shook as he stumbled to the bathroom, turning the shower as hot as he could stand and climbing in, scrubbing at his skin until all he felt was pain.

Once he climbed out, Stiles had a plan. He dressed quickly, not wanting to waste any second. All Void wanted was to use him, use his body, to tie up loose ends. No one Stiles cared about would get hurt, not if he just listened.

He wasn’t planning on listening, obviously, but Stiles had been lying for years. Lying to himself wasn’t even a problem anymore.

So he would ‘give in’. Play along, allow Void to think he had won. Stiles grabbed for his phone and shoved it into his pocket, stomping down the stairs. He didn’t meet his dad’s eyes as he grabbed his keys off the hook, unable to meet the pain in them. Everything would be over soon. He’d figure out a way to fix everything and it could all go back to normal, go back to how it was before Stiles felt like he was drowning every single day.

All he had to do was endure the agony until his head broke the surface of the water.

“I’m gonna head over to Peter’s. Don’t wait up.” He shouted over his shoulder, distantly hearing his dad respond and returning the ‘I love you’, wishing for a second he could just stop and hug him.

Inside him, somewhere dark within the recesses of his mind, Void’s mouth curled into a deadly smile, pleased arrogance tugging at the corners of blackened lips.

Just a little while longer. Then he could breathe. Then he could take in the breath his body was begging for. Could figure it out—he _always_ figured it out—and banish this demonic fucker right back to wherever the hell he’d come from. He just had to keep playing the part, just keep going through hell.

Just keep going.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any questions about what's going on or need a little more clarity, please come drop me a line over at my [tumblr](momomomma2.tumblr.com). Or...y'know...if you did like it, come hang out with me! I need more people who accept these kinds of works :D


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